


Unseen By The World

by Morvith



Category: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Anxiety, Bullying, Classism, Gen, Headcanon, Link (Legend of Zelda) Uses Sign Language, Politics, Pre-Calamity Ganon, Protectiveness, Selectively Mute Link (Legend of Zelda), Sexism, Slice of Life, protective Zelda, world building
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:14:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26307634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morvith/pseuds/Morvith
Summary: After the clash with the Yiga assassins, Zelda has gotten Link to open up to her a little, but she suspects he hasn't been completely forthcoming about the hardships being the Bearer of the Master Sword caused him.She didn't expect to witness one first hand as soon as they returned home. Link's position and the nature of the attack mean he can't defend himself - but Zelda can.
Comments: 14
Kudos: 218





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rays_Of_Write](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rays_Of_Write/gifts).



> Thank you for your ~~enabling~~ encouragement.

_I always believed him to be simply a gifted person who had never faced a day of hardship. How wrong I was... Everyone has struggles that go unseen by the world...I was so absorbed with my own problems, I failed to see his._

Zelda chews on her pen, casting a quick glance at her Appointed Knight. She is sure she has barely scratched the surface of Link's true cares – he only spoke in the most general terms and looked worried to have admitted that much. That he confirmed such burdens exist at all should be a victory, however, Zelda can't help but hope for more.

She knows that she has no right to his confidences, that she has to earn his trust after their rather fractious beginning. She is not entirely sure how to do it, but she is determined to prove herself worthy, at least in this one thing.

She can't know it now, but her chance to address one of Link's problems will come sooner than imagines.


	2. Link

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Trigger Warning** : oblique reference to prostitution, reference to physical punishment

Link is used to counting his life in a series of Before and After: Before and After Aryll, Before and After Mama Died, and of course the greatest of them all, Before and After The Master Sword – at least until the Calamity comes and provided he lives to see the After.

It applies to every single aspect of his life, every single relationship, including his association with the Princess. She became an inevitable part of After The Master Sword from the moment he pulled it from its resting place. Still, in spite of all the old ballads and ancient legends Lady Impa has shared with him, he always thought his association with the Princess would always be defined in Before and After the Guardian Incident – though some days he measures it in Before and After His Appointment, though the two things are strictly connected.

Now he has a new unit of measure for his list: Before and After The Yiga Ambush. She hasn't been the same since that day at the Bazaar. At first he thought it was shock, even when she thanked him – he won't say he hadn't hoped for a change, a sort of truce, though he certainly hadn't expected one. A knight expects nothing of Royalty, he simply carries out his duty without complaint and that is reward enough.

The Princess, it seems, has other ideas. She has been talking to him, all the way back from the Gerudo Lands, asking him questions and patiently waiting for his answers.

He should have known better than hope for change. Not that he would prefer the direct hostility that characterized their previous interactions, but... that was familiar. Expected. He knew how to deal with it, he has a long experience with dealing with hostility by now.

He's not sure how to handle this. Commander Marrilph had been extremely clear on what was expected of him as the Princess' appointed knight and, while answering her questions had definitely been included, Link is pretty sure he hadn't meant these kinds of questions.

They are personal. Intimate, in a way, although it only might only seem so because of the chasm that opened up between him and everybody else After The Sword.

They are against protocol, they must be, yet... he can't not answer her. She is _Princess Zelda_.

After all, didn't they all say she is his charge, his to protect, to support in any endeavour? If she wants him to answer, how is he supposed to deny her? Why should he deny her when...

Link feels something flare inside of him – irritation, maybe even anger, and promptly crushes it down, just like he pushes down the voice in his head whispering about _loneliness_ and _maybe she is lonely, too_.

He's closing the stall door when the stable door bangs open and three long shadows fall across the corridor.

“Well, well, well, look who's back from the desert,” sneers a well-known voice. It belongs to Domalph Stonehouse, the second son of a Duke, now a Lieutenant and not improved one bit since they were squires, for all that he's actually older than him.

Link doesn't do anything as obvious as sigh. He keeps his shoulders down and relaxed, his face carefully blank, he doesn't even glance at them, for if Domalph is here, so are his cronies.

Case in point.

“What happened, Attwood, did you get demoted to stable boy?” Dulph Mercer asks, his voice all false concern. “I guess guarding the Princess takes more finesse than pulling an old sword from a stone.”

“Tell us, how did you manage to insult her? Or was your presence enough?” Juron Seaworth adds, smirking. “Hope you saved some of your pay.”

Link stares straight ahead and ignores them.

“Better go to the market and get some more cuccos, your sister can always sell the eggs to the Royal kitchens.” Dulph again.

“Or she could sell something else. I'd buy.”

Link doesn't move, doesn't even bat an eyelid. Before, he could have made Juron swallow his words accompanied by all his teeth and it would have been worth every hour of latrine duty, every middle-of-the-night watch, every stroke of the cane on his back.

He can't do it now. The Bearer of the Master Sword and the Princess' Appointed Knight can't get into brawls with junior officers. His life is no longer his own to do as he pleases.

Dignity. Control. Decorum.

“Now, now, my friends, let's not be hasty. I believe stable boy is actually a step up for Attwood here. Isn't that right, _swineherd_?” Domalph says, grinning nastily relishing in his favourite insult.

Dolph and Juron start laughing, only to choke on air as Princess Zelda's voice suddenly resounds behind them: “I believe his correct rank is Captain.”

All three knights spin around, barely managing not to fall, and drop to one knee before her, their heads bowed.

“Princess!”

“Your Highness!”

“Your Grace!”

Link's face and ears burn with embarrassment, but he desperately tries to push it away, swallow it down. He should kneel, too, he should already be kneeling before her, only she looks at him straight in the eyes and quickly makes two Sheikah signs with one hand half-hidden against her leg. _Wait. Stand._

Link obeys, standing to attention.

The Princess looks back down on the knights and smiles. It's not a nice smile at all. “How curious. I thought Ser Link's appointment as Hylia's Champion and my sworn knight was well and widely known. You appear to be singularly badly informed for Royal Knights. Who is your commanding officer? It seems he has been remiss in his duty.”

Three sharp intakes of breath, followed by silence.

The Princess arches a delicate eyebrow. “Well?”

Domalph swallows hard and tries to speak, perhaps feeling his cronies' glare on his back. “Your Highness, if I may...”

“You may not.” Her eyes harden, her voice is suddenly cold, colder than it has ever been when addressing him. “Did you just imply that I somehow resemble an even-toed ungulate of the Suidae family, Ser?”

“What?” Juron squeaks, only to bow even lower when her cold, cold eyes turn on him. “N-n-no, Your Highness!”

“We would never, Your Highness!”

“O-of course not, Your Highness!” Domalph is practically whimpering. “No one would dare compare your august person with... with...”

“A swine?” She suggests sweetly, calmly.

“Yes, I mean, no, Your Highness, I mean...”

“You seem to say a great many things you don't mean, Sirs,” Zelda says severely. “A rather unfortunate flaw in an officer, no matter how junior. You appear to have misplaced your own herder. I suggest you find him quickly and ask for remedial training. It's clear you sorely need it.”

She still gives them no leave to rise and walks through them, heading for the door connecting the stables to the palace.

Link falls into step behind her. Neither of them looks back.

Halfway up the stairs, the Princess suddenly lets out a long breath. “It's too much to hope they knelt in something nasty, isn't it?”

She isn't talking to him, not truly, and yet. “The real stable boys are very efficient. Unfortunately.” He has said too much. He should say more – thank her, or apologize for causing a scene, for his low origins that _still_ reflect badly on her, but the words don't come. He must try, though. “Princess...” he begins uncertainly.

She turns to look at him again, shaking her head. “Not now. I must report to my father, and then I need to change for dinner.”

She sounds apologetic, and why on Earth should she sound so? She owes him no explanation – in fact, she ought to reprimand him for forgetting her schedule. “Of course, Your Highness.”

He dutifully escorts her to her father's study, then to her private rooms. At the door, she turns again, green eyes boring straight into his soul. “Will you be alright?”

Out of balance again, and Link is not sure he managed to school his face in time. “I? Of course, Princess.”

She smiles, quick and awkward and a little.. sad? “Well, then. Enjoy your dinner. I'll see you in two hours.”

Link salutes and waits until the door closes behind her before heading to his quarters and the Royal Guard's mess hall. He's halfway down the corridor when the Princess' door opens again. Link immediately stops and turns, but it's Sharos and Isi, two of Zelda's maids, who hurry through the door, not the princess herself trying to sneak away.

Feeling more than a little guilty – she did promise she wouldn't do it again – he turns back and continues on his way.

He doesn't think about the incident in the stables: it's nothing new from those three and the majority of knights either don't know what to do with him or find his youth vaguely disturbing, but the important part is that they leave him alone.

Domalph and his cronies will likely do the same now. He wishes the princess hadn't had to witness that scene, but he still feels relieved it's over. The Princess, he reasons, will have bigger, better things to occupy her mind than a quarrel between knights.

Hours later, right in the middle of dinner, it turns out his evaluation was wrong.

At first, it had all seemed normal, a night like any other at the Castle. Link had returned outside her door about half an hour before the appointed time and waited for her to be ready to leave, escorted her to the Great Dining Hall, pulled out her chair at the High Table and then he had taken his usual place standing behind it, a little to right.

He had remained alert and ready, his eyes always scanning the room, the minstrels' gallery (with the usual heartfelt curse all members of the Royal Guard aimed at the bloody stupid architect who had placed it _right in the perfect spot for a Royal assassination_ ) and scrutinizing anybody who so much as moved toward the Princess' plate or glass. He had also kept half an ear on the general conversation – Appointed Knights are only supposed to pretend to be deaf and blind, after all, and even a simple dinner sometimes can go... badly.

The presence of Commander Marrilph at the High Table was neither wholly unusual nor completely expected – the Commander was busy more often than not and usually preferred to grab a quick bite in the mess hall – but it still did not raise any particular preoccupation, at least until he directly addressed the Princess.

“Your Highness, I have received a complaint from the Royal Stable Master regarding the behaviour of some of my knights. I apologize you had to witness such a scene and I assure you the perpetrators will be punished most severely.”

Link doesn't frown, though it's a close call. The Royal Stable Master had been no where near their altercation, he is sure of it. There were a couple of stable boys who might have reported to him, but it seems unlikely – a stable boy in the Royal Stables still can't hold a candle to a Royal Knight.

Link's eyes stop briefly on the Princess' face, better visible now that she has turned to speak to the Commander.

“Thank you, Ser Marrilph, I appreciate your commitment. It was very distressing, I never thought I'd see a member of the Royal Guard behave so, let alone three. Disrespecting the Royal family and threatening civilians! That's hardly living up to the Royal Guard's standards.”

“An astonishing disregard of the knightly values we are meant to embody, Your Highness.”

“I believe it's not their first incident, either, is it?” Princess Zelda asks oh-so-blandly.

“Ah... No, Your Highness.”

“I see. In that case, I can't help but wonder if a simple punishment would be enough, especially with the trying times awaiting us all.”

“The Royal Guard will stand by you and your Champions, Your Highness.”

“I hope so. Such divisiveness is not to be encouraged.”

“I assure you it is not, Your Highness.” The Commander's face hardens. “I will personally oversee this matter.”

The Princess smiles. “Thank you, Ser Marrilph. I have the utmost faith in your abilities.”

The Commander makes all the appropriate replies, thanking her for the trust she accorded him and assuring her once more he'd investigate and act appropriately, but Link is no longer listening.

He tries to concentrate on his watch and only on that, but no matter how much he tries, half his mind keeps slipping back to... well, everything that just happened.

Ser Marrilph is a good Commander – stern, severe, just, but also proud of the Royal Guard and what it represents. Whatever punishment he had in mind would have been no joke, yet the Princess has just got Domalph, Dolph and Jukon kicked out of the Royal Guard. Thrown out on their as- _ears,_ no matter how important or rich their families are.

Link just wishes he could understand why. They hadn't been insulting her, not really, and while it's true no one would ever dare to call her names, she is no stranger to criticism, much more articulate and perhaps all the more cutting.

Is it because of her previous hostility? It cannot be just that, there was no need – he's probably reading too much into it anyway, he cannot imagine her standing aside and saying nothing when somebody is being insulted or attacked. He has seen her rush to other people's defence, speak up against injustice and unfairness. Never for herself, though, and he ruthlessly pushes aside the voice in his head whispering that the one person who could and should speak for her is actually setting the tone for much of the criticism she receives.

Link sternly reminds himself that it's not his place to judge, especially not when it comes to royalty. His duty is all that matters and he has not been fulfilling it at his best, so less getting lost in his own thoughts and more actual guarding.

His eyes never stopped moving from the Princess' plate and glass to the gallery (seriously, fuck that architect) to the rest of the hall, but now he puts his mind back on the task.

The Princess and Ser Marrilph are trading the usual platitudes that signal the end of a conversation. Once those are finished, the Princess engages the Master of the Library in a debate on Historia Hyrule. Ser Marrilph remains silent, apparently absorbed by his dinner – Link knows the Commander is too experienced to do something as obvious as frown, but the set of his shoulders and the tilt of his head promise a veritable storm for the Royal Guard.

Just like that, everything returns to normal, as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened at all. If he hadn't heard the Princess with his own ears, he'd almost chastise himself for daydreaming on duty.

As usual, the King doesn't linger over the last course. Ser Marrilph leaves right after, but he is not the only one and it's hardly remarkable, either.

The Princess waits exactly four minutes after her father has left, then puts down her cutlery and her napkin. Link immediately moves to pull back her chair, careful not to drag it on the floor – he's always afraid one day he'll mess it up, although nobody will likely hear it over the noise of the entire dining hall standing again, more or less in unison.

The Princess nods gracefully and walks away, Link falling in step behind her as two footmen open the doors, then close them behind them.

All normal, all natural. The halls are quiet, silent. At this point the Princess might head for the Royal Library, where she will select a book, or retire directly to her private rooms – apparently, tonight it will be the latter. Or so Link thinks, before he's promptly proved wrong once more.

At the top of the stairs, Princess Zelda stops and glances at him over her shoulder. “I forgot some notes in my study. Would you mind accompanying me?”

Link feels caught off guard again – she doesn't need to ask him and for a moment she looked... guilty? Nervous? Why?

Still, there's only one answer he can give her. “Of course not, Your Highness.”

The Princess smiles. “Thank you.”

She walks away, and he follows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter (well, this whole story, really) was born because I really liked Attwood as a surname for Link - and while this time he is not an unknown orphan from who knows where, I got thinking: "what if his surname meant he's descended from a nobleman's bastard?" (more on Hyrule surnames in the next chapter)
> 
> Most prominent is my second headcanon, i.e. considering the form Ganondorf tends to take, "pig" , "hog" or "swine" etc are Hyrule's strongest, vilest insults. Them's fighting words, literally.


	3. Zelda

'I can't believe I've done that. I can't believe I've done that!'

The words keep echoing inside Zelda's mind, louder than the Dining Hall doors closing behind them, louder than their footsteps in the hall or on the stairs – not that it's saying much, between her delicate slippers and Link's uncanny ability to move almost soundlessly even when wearing boots on a marble floor.

If her Father finds out, it will be a disaster. She doesn't think he'd go as far as to have those... those... disgusting pigs masquerading as knights reinstated, but he'd definitely make his displeasure known. Zelda almost laughs because that sounds bland, almost innocuous, when it would be anything but. She would not get away with yet another lecture about not trying hard enough, oh no! Not for meddling, for playing politics when her duty lies elsewhere.

A small, timid voice in her head wonders if the actual reason behind his fury would be that she played and _won,_ but she dismisses it. It might be right, but what does it matter? What would it change? Nothing.

And speaking of changes... She had been wondering about doing something nice for Link to make up for her previous unkindness, but not this. She never expected this.

What will he think now? Will he assume she is just trying to repay him for saving them from the Yiga assassins? Will he think she wouldn't have acted like that if it had happened before?

Was it her fault it happened at all? Has she wronged even more than she knew? Would he tell her, if she asked him?

They are at the top of the stairs now, but if she returns to her rooms, he will have to leave and she just can't allow it, not now. She owes him more than that.

“I forgot some notes in my study,” she says, glancing at him over her shoulder “Would you mind accompanying me?”

There's no need to ask his opinion, or announce her intentions, or even to look at him, but she wants to do it anyway. For a moment – the briefest of moments, the space of a blink, an heartbeat – his composure is... not rattled, no, probably not even shaken, but surprise makes it waver.

“Of course not, Your Highness.” He recovers beautifully – in fact, she doubts Commander Marrilph himself would have noticed, but it happened.

Zelda smiles, hoping it comes across as reassuring. “Thank you.”

It doesn't take them long to reach her study. Since it's an unplanned detour, Zelda unlocks the door and steps aside, letting him in first through the door so he can inspect the room and make sure no one is lying in wait.

He lights the candles as he goes, quick and efficient as always – delicate, too, careful not to disturb anything and she blushes in embarrassment as she realizes she had never noticed it before.

He stands by the doorway and half-bows, wordlessly announcing that the room is safe. As Zelda comes in, he moves aside.

“Close the door.”

She heads toward her desk, but instead of looking through her papers, she grabs both her chair and the one she keeps for Purah and Robbie, pulls them out and moves them one in front of the other.

Link says nothing when she sits on her chair, his face perfectly blank and impassive.

“Take a seat,” she says, hoping it doesn't sound as stupid as it feels, since there really isn't another place he could sit.

He is good, just as it befits a Princess' Appointed Knight, but at her request – not an order, not yet, she doesn't want to make it an order – his eyes widen, his posture stiffens almost imperceptibly.

It's against protocol, but it's also a direct instruction from his Princess, one that does not contradict any of his duties and orders. He still hesitates.

“Your Highness...” he starts, his voice soft and low, but no protest, no denial follow.

“There's just us and we are inside the Castle. Please, Link, sit down.”

She won't make it an order. They can talk even if he keeps standing, but she really hopes he will sit down. It's important, even if she herself couldn't explain why.

One more heartbeat, two, then Link finally moves and takes his seat, his blank mask back in place. Mostly.

She might be imagining, but he looks a bit... nervous. Is it because she made him sit down? Does he expect she will yell at him again? Mock him, like those pigs?

Zelda twists her hands in her lap, uncomfortable silence stretching once more between them as she struggles to find the right way to start.

“Have you... have you warned your father?” He's momentarily startled, then frowns. “About the threats against your sister.”

A small, surprised breath escapes his lips, so soft she almost misses it. “Yes, Your Highness. Well, I...I wrote him a note...” He trails off again, a light blush on his cheeks.

Zelda nods. “Good. You are certain he received it, right? Because I could send it by Royal Messenger.”

“I sent a squire,” Link whispers, then almost shakes himself. “Your Highness, my most sincere thanks for your consideration for my f...”

She holds up a hand, hoping he won't notice it's trembling. “Don't. Please.”

Those are not his words. They are just a formulaic response Impa and Commander Marrilph have drilled into him and that's not what she needs to hear.

She wants the truth, in his words, not platitudes.

Silence again. Zelda takes a deep breath, then another, and forces herself to meet his gaze. “Was it because of me?”

Link stares at her, bewildered. “Your Highness?”

“Those guards in the stable. I assume it's not the first time they bothered you.” Link goes very, very still. It's as good as an answer. “I will also assume they weren't the only ones who acted like that. Was it because of me?” She realizes she's twisting the fabric of her skirt in her hands, but can't bring herself to stop. “I... You know how I felt about your appointment. I tried not to show it, though, not here. Not at court. I swear I did, you must have known. But if they noticed anyway...”

Courtiers are sharks, a scourge worse than moblins, bokoblins and lizalfos combined, with the added disadvantage that one cannot simply shoot them full of arrows or stab them with a sword. Where the King (or Queen) goes, the court follows, she knows that better than anybody else and though they were admittedly more likely to take their tone from whoever was the current reigning sovereign, there were always those who'd seek to ingratiate themselves with the future monarch.

It had been one of the first lessons her father and her tutors had hammered into her head after Mama died: always, always be careful to whom she showed favour or disfavour.

Something flashes in his eyes, there and gone too quickly for her to pin it down. “I... Princess... Your Highness...” His voice stutters and runs out. His hands curl into fists tightly, so tightly even his gloves can't conceal it. He tries, Goddess know he tries, struggles to find his voice, his words, like a drowning man struggles for air.

Zelda raises her hands before her, the movement immediately attracting his attention. _Would you rather sign?_

Link stares, swallows hard, then nods, his hands immediately forming a reply. _Yes. Please._ He takes a deep breath, then his hands move again. _It wasn't your fault. It's nothing new, they never liked me, even before I found the Master Sword._

She frowns. _Why would people dislike you for pulling the Master Sword?_

A bit hypocritical of her, perhaps, but she honestly thought she had been the only one – and she had been wrong to take out her frustration on him, she had known even then.

Link's face is still deceptively blank, his hands impossibly steady as he signs. _Many reasons. It meant the prophecy was real and coming true. Some thought I was too young, that I couldn't be worthy of it._

There's another question burning in the back of her mind and she shouldn't ask it, she really, really shouldn't, not when she can't even blame her unruly tongue. She finds herself halfway through signing the words anyway. _Because of your surname?_

_Yes._ He hesitates, then adds, _They never said in so many words, but that was part of it._

He doesn't look hurt, or ashamed, and Zelda feels selfishly relieved.

Surnames should not matter in the Royal Guard, with the only exceptions being quartermasters and pay officers for obvious practical reasons. Even bastard surnames, like Link's.

Funny, she obviously knows how surnames work in her own country – occupational or simple place names are for the people, noble houses have composite surnames whose first part is always a natural element like Water, Fire, Stone, or Wood, and any surname with the natural element at the end denotes a nobleman's bastard, or somebody who is descended from one – but she never really thought what it all _meant._

It's so, so stupid, really, so unfair because what does it matter if Link's surname is Attwood? Go through the service records and more than half will be made up of bastards' surnames, recent or otherwise. It's not even like he's a bastard himself, she distinctly remembers being told his family has a long tradition in the Guards.

What does he have to atone? Being a talented swordsman? Being chosen by a power greater than himself?

“I'm sorry.” Zelda says.

Link starts to shrug, but freezes immediately. _It's not your fault, princess. It is what it is._

“People are stupid.”

This time, he does shrug, perhaps for lack of anything better to say, perhaps because it's one of those things he's not supposed to say in front of the princess, even if she brought it up first.

Link's start moving again, carefully. _Aren't you going to ask?_

“Ask what?”

_To whom we are related._

Zelda blinks. There aren't many possibilities – Woodhouse, Woodward and, if his family goes back enough, the now extinct Woodville.

“Does it matter?” she asks instead.

Link hesitates again. _Everybody always asks. Not just me, everyone who has a..._ His fingers, usually so quick and sure on the signs, stumble as he hurriedly changes wording. _...A surname like mine gets asked._

“I won't.” She can't say she hadn't wondered for a second when she first heard it, but she will not insult him by asking now. Or ever. “It doesn't matter.”

It's not all that you are, she wants to tell him. It's not all that _**we**_ are – weapons, symbols, a hero and a princess, the bearer of a legendary sword or a mystical conduit, we are more than that. We are people. We are human, not legends, not yet and it's not a flaw if we don't know how to be.

The words are so clear in her heart, in her mind, but her voice won't come, her hands remain still in her lap.

“Thank you.”

Link's voice startles her and she looks up. “What for?”

_Everything. What you said down at the stable, what you did just now. Thank you._

Zelda bites her lip. Was that the first time somebody spoke up for him? Surely not, there must have been others – his family, his commanding officers... Unless they didn't know. Unless he never told them.

“Would you have told me about them, if I hadn't walked in when I did?”

He shakes his head, just once.

She takes a deep breath, her hands curling into fists on her lap. She wants to grab his shoulders and shake him, yell at him that he has enough burdens to carry without taking on other people's feelings, without shielding others from the consequences of their own actions, but... she is scared.

It's still too early, the tentative trust between them still too new to risk it. She doesn't want him to think she didn't mean her apologies, her promise that things would be different.

“Well. I'm glad I did, then.”

Link is silent, his hands still, but there's a look in his eyes, on his face, something she has never seen before. She is not quite sure what it is, maybe...

Outside, the Great Bell rings. Her own clock almost immediately echoes it, chiming softly, both sounds cutting through the quiet of her laboratory like alarm bells.

Zelda startles again, then sighs. They have been here too long already, if somebody sees them there will be another lecture from her father about spending too much time in her laboratory and not enough praying and the last thing she wants now is for him to look too closely into her activities.

She stands, pushing the chair back under the desk. “We should go. I should be back in my rooms.”

When she glances back at Link, his face looks blank and emotionless, his mask firmly back in place. He puts back his chair and blows out the candles one by one, until only the one closest to the door remains.

Link leaves first, once more her Appointed Knight – checking the passage for danger and falling into step behind her once he ascertains that the way is clear.

Zelda feels tired, so tired, but there's one last thing, one last thought scraping at the back of her mind like a pebble in her shoe. It suddenly comes into focus halfway down the corridor.

When they reach her door, she turns back.

“When you first received your new assignment, I am sure Commander Marrilph and Impa told you your duties involve defending me from all attacks,” she says lightly, conversationally – as if she was discussing the weather.

Link nods slowly. “They did, Your Highness.”

“Good. I'm not sure they made one thing clear, though.” She looks straight at him, meets his gaze and holds it. “You are my Appointed Knight. An attack on you is an attack on me.”

Link's restraint is unparalleled, almost superhuman, but she is watching for it, so she sees the exact moment when the rupee drops. He doesn't do anything as overt, as vulgar as grin, but it's still like the sun coming out from behind the clouds.

Zelda wants to grin, too. “Ah. I see we understand each other.”

“Perfectly, Your Highness.” Normal words, the expected response, yet it sounds different. Warmer. Conspiratorial.

She almost pities the next fool who tries to insult him – well, insult her by proxy, even if she never was the target. Almost. She just hopes she'll get to see it: one of them should have the freedom, the right to self-defence.

There's not much she can do, not much she can give him, but at least she can give him this, and the unspoken assurance that she will have his back, in any way she can.

“Good night, Sir Link.”

“Good night, Princess.”


End file.
